31 Days Of Death Eater Drabbles
by amortentia1992
Summary: 31 days of Halloween. 31 Days of dabbles. October 2017. Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Been Awhile since I posted a drabble huh? Well here is a treat for you, as a challenge to myself I'm shooting for 31 days of Death Eater Drabbles as a Halloween treat for you all. This first one is a drabble from the DEE prompts Alecto Carrow, Animagi, Antonin Dolohov, "Get off me witch," and "There is room for two" – Hope you all enjoy.**

Perched high on ledge above a dark Knockturn Alley street her claws wrapped around the ornate lantern fixture on the brock and mortar wall. Nobody paid her any mind, which was how she liked things as she awaited the arrival of her pray.

She loved this form, the freedom it brought, the anonymity it provided. Not a soul knew she was an Animagus, though she supposed that would change soon, and in the dead of night what was another raven to the gloomy, ominous slums of wizarding London?

Alecto waited, going over her plan again as she did. It was usually about 1 AM when he stumbled out of one of the shady pubs on this block and made his way down to his flat. Alecto had spent many a night watching him. Tired of the rejection she faced from him every time she offered herself to him, she was resorting to drastic measures. Tonight, she would not let herself be turned away.

As if on cue the wizard emerged from the door of The Mermaid Curse, alone and frustrated as always. Alecto paused, wondering a moment why he always turned her down, clearly, he was sexually frustrated and lonely. She could make him happy….

Almost losing her window of opportunity the Animagus extended her black wings, uncurled her clawed feet and soared into the night sky after her prey. She slipped behind him through the crack in the door before he closed it, narrowly avoiding getting her wing crushed. In the pitch blackness of the wizards flat she was unseen, but with her impressive night vision and birds eye view, Alecto closed in on her prey and found a new perch on Antonin's shoulder, claws scratching into his skin.

" Krovavyy ad! Otpravleno!" The wizard shouted out in his native language, his thick accent and fluent Russian sending shivers through her. She didn't understand what he said, yet she knew the wizard well enough to gauge his tone and reaction and know he was cursing, and uncomplimentary at that.

Now firmly, secured on her mark, Alecto shifted forms. The sudden increase of weight and his drunken state was too much for the wizard and he fell over, Alecto still wrapped around him on his back.

"Fucking Circe!" He groaned.

"My name's not Circe, but thanks for the compliment," Alecto retorted, whispering in his ear. Antonin stilled beneath her.

"Alecto?"

"Who else?"

"Fucking Hell, Get off me witch."

Alecto rolled off him, but kept her hand on his shoulder, and he struggled to sit up.

"What in the hell Carrow?"

"I thought you could use some company."

"How many times have I told you, I don't fuck whores?"

Alecto didn't let the insult phase her. Antonin was a mean drunk, but she was determined. "Baby, Come on, There's room enough here for two. I know you're lonely, I can keep you company."

"Get the fuck out of her Carrow. Now, before I do something extreamy unpleasant to you," the wizard warned.

"It doesn't have to be unpleasant. Please Antonin, just let me suck your cock. Anything. Just give me a fucking chance."

"If you are not gone by the time I count to three, you will not like the consequences. I'm not fucking you, I'm not putting my cock anywhere near you. Now go."

Alecto didn't move.

"One."

She pleaded with her eyes.

"Two," he hissed, as hereached for his wand. Alecto stared him down

"Three." The curse flew out of his wand at the same time she shifted and unscathed she flew out of an open window, pissed and humiliated once more. If he was so unmoved by her advances, fine. She wouldn't try to fuck him anymore. But she would be damned sure he didn't fuck anybody else either, after all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

 **Chapter Notes:**

Russian to English Translation – _" Krovavyy ad! Otpravleno!"_ – _"Bloody Hell! Fuck Off!"_ – via google translator.

" _Hell, Hath no fury like a woman scorned_ – popular expression misquoted from playwright William Congreve. Actual quote: _"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 2 Prompts : Hermione Granger, Thorfinn Rowle, "I was counting my candy when all of a sudden," and "Trick or treat"**

"Goodnight my little pumpkin," the twenty-something year old witch whispered to her daughter, kissing the child's forehead.

"Goodnight rascal," the husky voice of her husband echoed.

Halloween night was a favorite in this household, but bedtime was bedtime after all.

"Mommy, Daddy," came the not quite sleepy reply from beneath the bedcovers. "Will you tell me the story of how you guys got together again?"

"Again Isadora? You must have heard it a thousand times now," Hermione crooned playfully, a smile turning the corner of her lips. Thorfinn chuckled from beside her.

"Yes, but please, oh please mum, please."

"Very well," Hermione agreed and climbed onto the bed. Thorfinn scooted in on the other side, the story not one to be told without both parties present. Once they were all comfy the little girl piped up.

"Were all snuggled up like smores." Both Parents laughed. It was Isadora new favorite line.

"Once upon a time," Hermione began

"Not all that long ago," Thorfinn finished, "there lived a princess."

"A princess who had lived through a lot of tough stuff. She was the most brilliant, hardworking and loyal person in the whole castle, but she wasn't the most beautiful. Beauty wasn't something this princess cared much about, and the others thought this odd. The princess was teased often and harshly, for not quite fitting in."

"In the same castle lived a knight, and he wanted to prove himself to his father and to the other nights, but was raised in a place of envy and resentment. This made the night dark, and petty and he despised the princess for being so good," Thorfinn added in his parts.

"The knight ignored the princess as first, but once the princess found him in a compromising position and told the king of the castle. From then on, the knight became one of the worst bullies the princess had to face. You see, unlike the rest of the bullies, he was older, bigger, meaner and he had a vendetta against the princess. But soon the dark knight left the castle, and the princess grew stronger and made friends and studied hard to become a warrior."

"These skills benefited the princess greatly, as she needed them to fight off friends of the knight who were even more cruel and scary than he was. But the princess prevailed and won a great battle. The knight would have been in a lot of trouble, but he apologized to the princess for all he had done," Thorfinn said before his wife continued.

"The princess didn't, couldn't, forgive him right away, but used one of her favors to give the knight a fighting chance at freedom. From there they parted ways once more."

"Come on!" Interjected a riled Isadora, "Get to the good stuff, would you?"

"It was Halloween about a year later, and the princess was finally free from the castle and building her own kingdom. The knight was working at a pub, having been relieved of the honor of being a night. The pub was throwing a festive party for the night, and coaxed by her friends the princess walked into the pub," Hermione continued.

"The knight noticed her, but the princess did not notice him straightaway. He remained in the shadows as her friends got her a butterbeer and a basket for candy. The princess, was awarded many pieces from grateful subjects whom she had helped saved from the knight's old friends. At midnight, the princess was called up to announce the winner of the best costume, and that was when the knight seized his opportunity. His shift was over, and the princess had left the basket of candy on the table. The table was unoccupied because all the inhabitants wanted to see who she would choose for best costume. The knight stole the candy and that was when the princess looked up and saw him."

"Indeed, the princess recognized the knight immediately and glared at him with suspicion to see him holding the basket of treats. The knight only grinned at her and lifted the basket to her eye level, before mouthing the words trick or treat to her and disappearing from the pub. The princess, had her hands tied though, while she was livid to have been robbed f her goodwill prizes, which she planned to give to needy children, she also had to announce the winner of the costume contest. So, the princess didn't' run after the knight and did not alert attention to him, she did the right thing and stayed a few minutes to finish."

"Meanwhile, the knight, yours truly, had arrived at his flat and I was counting my candy when all of a sudden…" soft snoring interrupted Thorfinn at his favorite part. He made a face and looked at his wife. "Every single time."

"Oh Thorfinn, it's probably a good thing, really."

"True," The wizard replied with a sardonic smirk. Both parents kissed their daughter again before turning down the light and closing the door.

In their own bedroom, they turned to each other.

"Trick or treat," Thorfinn rumbled. Hermione, smiled seductively and untied the red cloak she wore, letting it fall to the floor. Thorfinn gaped at her before whistling lowly at his wife's naked body. "Treat it is."

"Whose treat?" Hermione giggled. The transfigurations of the cloak and the elaborate spell work of her costume completely disguising the fact that the entire night she wore nothing beneath the cloak.

"Depends on how you see it," the wizard muttered, appraised his wife's naked body. "I mean I'll be doing the eating, but I think you'll enjoy it just fine."

"Well then, Come and get me," hermione purred and laid on the bed spread eagle for him. Thorfinn didn't waste another second.

Later, snuggled into each other's arm and sated Thorfinn asked. "Were you naked under that thing the whole night?"

"Ah, Yes."

"Fuck, at a party?"

"Ummm, uh-huh."

"You really are my dirty princess."


	3. Chapter 3

**Prompts: Antonin Dolohov, Pumpkins, Hermione Granger and "You can't live off whiskey and candy"**

It was an unusual circumstance, Hermione Granger's relationship with him. She should hate him, fear him. It wasn't all that long ago that she was suffering the effects of a very near fatal curse he had hit her with. It wasn't that long before that they were opponents fighting on either side of a war. But she didn't. Hate him that is. Hermione didn't despise him and she didn't particularly fear him anymore, because she knew that he regretted his choices.

There was a mix of feelings between them. Hermione forgave him and yet was weary of his past, yet something drew her to him. Maybe it was the fact that he was alone, outcast from society for his misdeeds and abandoned by his former comrades for his repentance. He had nobody, and she often felt lonely herself. While she had friends, they all had lives and relationships and very little time for her.

So, that is why, she found herself walking down the dimly lit cobblestones streets, pumpkins and ghoulish decorations on display in windows and on awnings towards the flat of one Antonin Dolohov. Halloween was always her favorite holiday, and she never turned down the opportunity to dress up. Her costume this year was elaborate but skimpy. Black, glittering, faerie wings stretched from her back over her shoulders, and where charmed to flutter and sparkle in the light. A matching black, one-sleeved dress fell to about mid-thigh and was paired with dark knee-high boots and heavy make-up to complete the look. The clip clop of her heels echoed as she walked, the streets empty due to the cold and the occasion, pubs throwing lavish parties and shops closed.

Hermione carried a bag of goodies, and reached the building where her…friend…lived. She entered the building, and made her way to the top floor and knocked. And knocked. And knocked.

Finally after about 2 minutes, she smirked hearing the Russian curse words and irritated insults being shouted from the other side of the door before it was wretched open. "What?" He roared the question before he saw her standing there, her hands on hips shaking her head. He sighed heavily and opened the door wider. Hermione crossed the threshold.

Without saying anything Hermione made her way to the kitchen and set down the bag. As she began to unpack it she could feel his eyes on her, taking in her appearance. "Granger, what the fuck are you wearing" He asked gruffly, tone laced with the curiosity and the raw lust he felt at her appearance.

"A costume. It's Halloween after all."

"I thought only children did that," he mumbled.

"They do not! There are such things as adult costume parties you know."

"And just what are you supposed to be exactly?"

"An Unseelie."

"A whatie?"

"An Unseelie. A faerie of the dark court, the winter palace," Hermione explained. Antonin stroked his beard confused.

"Okay then," he said after a minute. He let his gaze wander again, really appreciating the view this outfit allowed him. She was an attractive witch, he realized when she first started coming around, but he was seeing her like it was the first time. Her ass was incredibly taut and round, her legs long despite her short stature and her thighs, _Circe_ , her thighs. He shook his head frantically, relieved to notice that she seemed oblivious to his checking her out, and had gone back to unpacking the bag on the table.

A witch after his own heart. There was whiskey and chocolate, which he gravitated towards only to have her slap his hand away.

"No, not until after dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes Dolohov, dinner, which I have cooked for you. You can't live off of whiskey and candy alone."

"I've been doing fine so far," he growled. She just hummed in reply and began undoing the stasis charms over the various food items. A flick of her wand set a bottle of apple cider to heat over the stove and they soon sat with plates full of food.

"This is good, Granger."

"I think you should start calling me Hermione, I'm here enough for first names." 

"Then you know you have to call me Antonin."

"No problem there, Antonin," She smirked.

"Good, Hermione," He grinned. "Can we eat those sweets now?"

"Godric, save me," Hermione muttered. "Yes, fine."

Antonin hopped up, snatching the bag of sweets and whiskey bottle and darted towards the leather loveseat. Hermione poured herself a mug of hot cider and spiked it with some spiced rum, before joining him.

"If you aren't at a party, why did you dressed up?" Antonin inquired breaking the comfortable silence.

"I was supposed to be at a party," Hermione told him.

"So why aren't you?" Hermione bit her lip hesitating.

"It's complicated. I don't know to be honest Antonin. I'm like a fifth wheel when I hang out with my friends now, and it's awkward. I just didn't feel like going and I didn't really want to be alone either."

"It's not wise for you to be spending so much of your free time here kotenok," He said, slipping up and calling her the Russian endearment he often thought of her as.

"I know," she replied before adding "wait, did you just call me kitten?" Antonin's lips twitched at the way she wrinkled her nose.

"Of course you understand Russian," he laughed.

"They don't call me a know-it-all for nothing. I speak three languages fluently. Why kitten?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I call you kitten because you're so curious about everything. Because I'm sure that your animagus form would be one, and because you keep coming back," he confessed. Hermione was quiet and looked at him contemplatively. Without a second thought she leaned up and pressed her lips to his.

Antonin shuddered in surprise, but didn't hesitate to return the kiss and slant his lips across her own, and pull the witch onto his lap. His tongue entered her mouth at the same time her hands clasped around his neck. She nipped at his lip right as he slipped his hands under them hem of her dress.

More aroused by her then he had ever been he continued the kiss with fire before leaning over her and grinding his hard length at her covered core. She moaned deliciously in unison with his own deep groan.

"Oh kotenok," he whispered softly, "I knew you would purr for me."

 **A/N: I know I don't usually post at the end of chapters, but this one may turn into something more… so stay tuned. I have some other stories to finish, cough, cough, before I start new projects…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Prompts: Severus Snape, The Hogs head, "It's the anniversary isn't it?", and Polyjuice potion**

Severus Snape escaped the confines of the castle and made his way down the dark, winding and sickeningly pumpkin decorated path towards Hosgmede. He adamantly refused to attend the feast in the great hall in no mood to listen to the incessant chatter and sugar induced hyperactivity that was sure to occur. Not that he ever preferred to put up with it, but it was he was even more reluctant. Which is why he made up his mind to not make an appearance there at all.

He didn't often visit the village, his demeanor and his missions keeping him far away, but tonight was different. Where he usually would imbibe in the comfort of his own private chambers, while scrawling rude remarks on terribly written essays, or staring into the flames, tonight he couldn't stand to be alone.

However, he didn't socialize either. Severus despised the three broomsticks and the cheery atmosphere the pub offered, and where he was sure to find the rest of the village and Hogwarts staff. Instead he snuck off in the direction of the village's other establishment, The Hog's Head.

It was empty, no surprise there, save for the owner Aberforth. Severus sat down at the acknowledging nod the barkeep shot in his direction.

"What can I get you?" The voice of Albus Dumbledore's estranged brother asked.

"A whiskey," Snape replied. "You can set the bottle there if you will." Aberforth stared at him for several moments, before shrugging and setting a full bottle of Ogden's on the bar in front of him, and placing a semi-clean glass next to it.

Snape studied the fingerprint smudges and the cloudy film that was the glass and wondered just how the wizard kept himself in business what with the clear health risks. However, he didn't comment and poured two fingers of the alcohol into it before knocking it back and repeating the process.

Silence ensued. Blissful quiet where while he wasn't isolated he still didn't have to engage in dull, meaningless conversation. He had the beginning stages of Polyjuice potion brewing at the castle, it seemed the order may have a need for it. Severus hated what his life was reduced to, teaching mindless dunderhead annoying children the art of brewing potions the majority would never appreciate, and serving two masters in a war. Usually his drinking stemmed from the stress of being a double agent but tonight it was all regret.

It was after his fifth glass of the amber liquid that Aberforth spoke again. "It's the anniversary isn't it?"

Severus, closed his eyes and answered with a slight incline of his head. He tried to shut out the pain and the memories of this night fifteen years before, but failed. "It is," he clipped. "I really hate Halloween."

Aberforth became quiet again, before pouring himself a glass. "To those we've lost," he toasted grimly.

Severus lifted his glass to return the statement and drank to his long ago friend, and the source of his deepest regrets, Lily Evans Potter. As he did, he remembered why he would never forgive himself.

Realizing that drinking wasn't going to help matters any, Severus sighed and made to leave several galleons down. Aberforth stopped him. "Keep your money lad, tonight it's on me."

"I don't want your pity," Severus snarled insistent on paying for his time there, but once again the old man surprised him.

"No you don't and I'm not offering you any. I'm appreciating your sharing a couple of shots with a wizard who also remembers the people long since departed. I'm no stranger to regret myself, lad."

Severus paused to contemplate that response, and then he nodded in acceptance. He took the money back, pocketed it, and turned out of the pub to begin the trek back to the castle.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Shortie, but I hope you like it. Prompts: Draco Malfoy, "Well that's decidedly Creepy," Masks and, "Skulls, dark manors, candlelight and wicked delights are my life"**

"Well, that's decidedly creepy," Draco muttered upon entering the room with his companion. It was a masked ball, to celebrate both Halloween and completion of their NEWTS. The students whose education had been greatly impacted by the war had been offered the opportunity to work with private mentors and come back and sit the exams over the past year. The finally received the results just last week and decided to celebrate.

The ball was being held in Lestrange manor, an estate which Draco had inherited after the deaths of his aunt and uncle. It wasn't one he was thrilled about, but his mother insisted that he should give it a chance. Of course, after years of laying abandoned when the owners were incarcerated, and not properly cared for several years before that, the estate was in a state of disrepair.

Only about a third of the manor was livable at the moment and was being used to host the elaborate gala and house some guests for the night. When she learned that Draco had not yet investigated the rest of his property, Hermione was appalled, and she insisted that they simply must explore.

Which is how they found themselves in the dungeons.

"I concur," Hermione whispered. The dungeons were cold, and dark, their candles the only light, full of cobwebs and littered with ancient bones.

"Let's get out of here."

"Okay."

The couple closed the door again and went on until they reached Draco's room. Hermione was the first to speak.

"I can't believe your ancestors kept the bones of their prisoners in their dungeons."

"Hey! They are not my ancestors! But yeah. I guess when the took somebody prisoner they left them to rot, literally."

"We should proably return to the party."  
"Nah, I think they can manage without us. I have something better planned."

"And what might that be, My lord?"

Draco leaned in and kissed her. "Well skulls, dark manors, candlelight and wicked delights are my life."

"Wicked delights? My my, what do you have planned?"

Draco pealed back her mask, and looked at her, "I'll just have to show you."

 **A/N: I used to only write this pairing. Now writing these to is like difficult for me. I hope you liked it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Prompts: Lucius Malfoy, A Dark Ritual, Narcissa Black/Malfoy and "Such Carnal Delights"**

Narcissa Black was conflicted. Her disowned cousin Sirius, disowned sister Andromeda and even some of her own friends kept telling her that this ceremony was wrong. Her sister Bellatrix and her parents insisted that it was quite traditional and she would be all the better for it. As a pureblood witch, Narcissa knew that she must do as she was bid lest she end up like her sister and cousin.

She received a letter from her sister, through Sirius at school, reflecting her regret for having to leave her behind and her concern for her welfare. Narcissa knew 'Meda was happy with her muggleborn husband and half-blood baby, but she couldn't picture her life without the wealth and good name of her family. Unfortunately that meant an arranged marriage and obedience.

She stood before the full length mirror, dressed all in white, grey eyes full of unshed tears. She composed herself at the knock on the door. It was time, she had made her decision and now it was time to seal her fate. She would be damned if she cried like a babe and had to face the scandal of it tomorrow.

"Father," she greeted Cygnes black. "I'm ready."

"Good," he praised stiffly. His features softened and leaned in to embrace her. "My little flower is all grown up."

Narcissa loved her father, she had always had a special place in her heart as he had in hers. She didn't agree with all of his decision, mainly recently, but she couldn't turn her back on him.

"I love you Daddy." She whispered back. Then he was leading her down the aisle to face her betrothed, Lucius Malfoy. Her father in law to be leered at her as she passed him and she shuddered.

The ceremony the Malfoy insisted upon was dark. It bound her to their family, granted any Malfoy male rights to her body, and bound her to faithfulness and Obedience and loyalty. It ensured that should she defy or betray her lord or husband that she would die. The marriage granted her family more prestige and political connections, which they were all to willing to trade their daughter in for. They didn't need the wealth, they had the pull of a noble house already, two seats on the Wizengament, and yet, they still wanted more, and if that meant selling their daughter into servitude they would do it.

Narcissa had read on this ritual. It provided all the benefits to the males and none for the witch. However, so long as she stayed within the lines of her vows, she could make a life for herself and giver herself advantages. Of course it meant she would likely be subjected to the whims of both Lucius and Abraxas for a time, but she could do this, and she would emerge stronger and considerably more powerful for it.

The ritual was sealed with a kiss, and like that she was marked as a Malfoy and bound to her husband. Her father in law leaned in and whispered to her at the reception dinner. "I'm looking forward to unwrapping you from that dress."

She flinched imperceptibly and sipped her wine. She stalled at the party as long as possible, knowing that her loss of innocence would be taken by the Malfoy Patriarch and then she would likely be given to her husband as well. Eventually the inevitable arrived. She was silent and proud through the experience, and her fears that Abraxas would not be gentle were confirmed. Naked, bleeding and alone in the bed she waited for her new husband to come in, the final words of her father in law echoing in her mind.

"Such carnal delights, pet" Abraxas had remarked. "Such carnal delights, I do so love deflowering young virgins."

Lucius entered the room minutes later, and climbed into the bed. She expected him to have his own way with her by the surprised her.

"I'm sorry," he expressed. "Nobody's first time should be at the hands of my father."

Narcissa, having remained proud and exposed the whole day, finally lost her resolved and sniffled. "I expected worse to be honest."

"Still," he replied. "I do not take pleasure from unwilling or reluctant women, and I may have to share a bed, and be unable to stop my father from… but I won't touch you until you are ready."

"Thank you," Narcissa cried, finally breaking down completely. She may have a perverted father in law, an oppressive binding and many obstacles ahead of her, but at least her husband, the wizard she was bound to obey was going to be kind for her. She could live with that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Prompts: Rabastan Lestrange, Tattoo fetish, "What do you mean, you're taking me hostage?," Hermione Granger, Happy Fucking Halloween**

She couldn't believe she was actually doing this. Hermione Granger, know-it-all bookworm didn't do spontaneous, drunken decisions, and yet here she was getting a tattoo. On her lower back, no less. Oh, what would her mother say? Well, nothing now, she thought morosely. She had modified their memories, permanently. As far as they were concerned they never had any children, and she had single-handedly made herself an orphan.

It was Halloween, and stuck in Grimmauld place hiding out, she and the boys had gotten into a fight. She stormed out of the house and into muggle London, for some much needed space. Hermione Granger walked the streets, before winding up in a pub and warming herself up with some cheap beer and whiskey. She stumbled out of there, and wandered again eventually finding this tattoo parlor and getting the bright idea that she should get herself one.

So now she had the words of her favorite quote and small birds etched into her skin, and was paying for the privilege before exiting into a dark alleyway. Still shaking her head she didn't see the danger until it had snaked its arm around her.

"Well, well, what have we here," the enlivened, laughing voice wondered aloud. Hermione struggled and managed to loosen the arm enough to see his face before the grip around her waist tightened. Rabastan Lestrange.

"Unhand me," she demanded.

'No can do. I'm taking you Hostage."  
"What do you mean you're taking me Hostage?"

"I mean, Granger, that by chance I've just captured Potter's pet mudblood, the ministry's number 2 undesirable, and I'm not passing up the rewards of turning her in."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed terrified.

"Well, I suppose I could maybe be convinced to just let you walk away, but you would have to make it really worth the punishment I'd receive if anyone else found out."

"What are you even doing here?" Hermione asked outraged at how close he pulled her to him.

"I have a, I guess muggles would call it a fetish. I like women with tattoos, and witches don't usually go for that sort of thing so…. What are you doing here? Wait, did you just get one? Oh this I just have to see."

"No, I don't have one," Hermione lied.

"Liar," he retorted. "Let's see it then Granger." Hermione struggled to get away to no avail. She eventually surrendered.

"Fine," she hissed through clenched teeth. "But you'll have to let me up a bit so I can show you."

Rabastan immediately let her go, prepared to chase should she try to run. To his immense pleasure, the witch lifted up the hem of her shirt. He nearly groaned when he saw of her red lace panties peeking out of her denim jeans and a full view of the tramp stamp inked onto her creamy white skin.

"And though she be but little, she is fierce," he read aloud. "Adequate Granger, adequate indeed. Of course you would get Shakespeare tattooed on you."

"Can I go now?"

"Go? Granger, you really think I'm going to let you go after you just showed me that? I told you I have a tattoo fetish and you have one planted deliciously close to your arse."

"What do you want, then? I'll beg if I have to. Please sir, please don't take me to the big mean dark lord," Hermione spat sarcastically, sensing the very real problem she could have.

"Nah, I don't think I want to hear you beg," Rabastan said, already knowing he wasn't going to turn her in. No, he was rather looking forward to undressing her, and kissing those beautiful black lines, to feeling her lips against his own markings. "Perhaps though, a kiss will do the trick?"

He wasn't expecting her movement, but the next thing he knew Hermione Granger, was slanting her lips across his. He took control an instant later, wrapping his arms around her, sliding his tongue into her mouth, delighting in her little moan. He ended the kiss almost as quickly as she had started it.

"Okay Granger, You can run along now. But be warned, I look forward to finishing this someday."

"We won't be finishing this Lestrange," She bit back, rolling her eyes.

"We'll see," he drawled, watching her as she walked away. When she reached the door, she reached the end of the alley he called, "Oh and Granger?" Hermione turned back to face him with a glare. He smirked and finished his salutation "Happy Fucking Halloween!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Prompts: Fenrir Greyback, "Are you supposed to be little red riding hood," Hermione Granger, "I'm the big bad wolf."**

He saw the flash of color before he even registered that something was there. That was strange for a werewolf, normally his hearing alerted him to the presence of his prey within a large radius of wherever he was. Then, he would smell them out, find out their exact location. The last thing that he relied on was his sight. Not that he would want to be without it by any means, but his other senses were stronger and more reliable than his vision.

But tonight, he saw his victim before he heard or smelled her. Why? Because she was wearing red. Red, the color of blood, was his favorite and it shone like a beacon through the trees. It was a new moon and he was trapped in his human form, but even thus he was still faster, stronger and deadlier then a normal human, and female at that.

The next thing he knew, was the thundering echo of feet upon the moss covered, earthy ground. Running. His Prey was running through the forest. She was also crying. It was almost like a dream come true. He rose from the bank of the river he had been gathering water from, and prepared to chase, but realized it was unnecessary, when the girl in question, broke through the cover of some trees right next to the cave.

In the dark, she couldn't see him, but with his night vision he could see her, and her red hooded cloak, clearly. He grinned maliciously. The girl entered his cave, the one he had claimed as his home, the one he hid away in. He waited a few minutes to let her settle in there and then silently approached. He sniffed the air and her scent rushed at him. Prey did not smell like this, he thought. Prey smelled like fear, like blood, and meat. She smelled delicious, like vanilla, and honey and warmth. She smelled like mate.

"Who's there?" Her fear struck voice called. The scent of his mate was laced by the familiar smell of fear, but he wouldn't hurt her now.

"Are you supposed to be little red riding hood?" Fenrir answered, though not giving her a name. He didn't want her to run away. He knew who she was, and knew she knew his name, and after the war, his name was not one that made people stay.

"What?"

"I asked if you were supposed to be little red riding hood, the red cloak, the woods and all."

"Well, yes. The cloak was my halloween costume, for the feast at the castle. I guess it's more ironic now that I'n running through the woods. Who are you?" She asked again before she used magic to light a fire in the pit by the cave.

He stood forebodingly in the entrance to the cave, effectively barring her escape, and he watched as her facial expression contoreted into horror as she recognized him.

"I'm the big bad wolf," Fenrir smirked.

"No, no, no, no."

"Oh yes," he replied. "And you, Hermione are in my home."

He wasn't intentionally attempting to terrify the witch, but with so little to amuse him these days he couldn't resist having a little fun.

"Oh god, no. Please don't hurt me," Hermione whimpered. Her scent was almost completely covered up with the odor of her fear. Fenrir wondered momentarily how the brave Gryffindor could be so afraid of him before he remembered. When she was a guest of Bellatrix Lestrange, she had nearly been gifted to him. He recalled how in his blood lust induced state he had explicitly told her all the things he would do to her, right before she got away. He suddenly understood why she was so afraid.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he stated calmly. He didn't finish the rest of the sentence, wanting her to relax slightly. An almost inaudible sigh told him she was relieved by that statement.

"Then let me go," she requested.

"No, I'm not going to do that either. I can't you see."

"Why can't you, just move aside, and don't chase me, it's not that hard you know."

"It is impossible. It seems Hermione Granger, that now that I've found you, or rather my wolf has, that he's not letting you get away. Not when his mate is right in front of him."

The witch's reaction was twofold. First, she gasped in shock, and then she burst up and ran straight at him, no doubt for the exit. Of course, she was no match for him and as she reached him, he caught her nad pulled her towards him, holding her in place. She struggled, which only excited him and his wolf. He bit down on the junction of skin where neck met shoulder, marking her as his and relishing in magic that took hold as he did.

Hermione's crying didn't stop but she was now unable to fight him, and she had slumped into him. He made soothing noises as he scooped her up and carried her deep into his dwelling. He would take care of his little mate, and soon, she wouldn't be afraid of him anymore. He was still holding her when he wrapped the cloak around her and laid down with her on the bed.

In the distance, far enough away that only a werewolf could hear, he ignored the sounds of two voices calling out, searching for his little mate. They could wait.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: It's short, I'm not going to lie, but I was trying to make it comical and set it in a singular scene, so there was only so much I could write. I hope you all enjoy anyway.**

 **Prompts: Thorfinn Rowle, "What did you do with the body?" Antonin Dolohov, "I fucking hate Halloween"**

"What did you do with the body," Thorfinn asked in a rough grumble.

"It's been taken care of," Antonin replied sourly, accent thick.

"No Shit, 'Tonin. Where, where is the fucking body?"

"In the backyard."

"Fuck!" Thorfinn Exclaimed. That was no good.

Neither of the wizards were thrilled at the mission they had been assigned, and to top off the unpleasantness, nature had decided to offer its own gift to them. The night was cold, late October would do that, mist filled the darkness and clouds gathered in the sky threating rain and storms. If that wasn't bad enough, the streets were also filled with children.

Having a bodied buried in the backyard was not ideal, but Thorfinn recognized that their options were limited. However, Trick or treaters were everywhere, they were in a muggle neighborhood and moving said dead body was bound to draw unwanted attention to them.

"Fuck," Antonin echoed. "We should have been long gone by now."

"Yeah, should have done, but were not, and if anybody sees that mound of dirt out there, were done for."

"Muggle repelling charms, wards, notice me not spells," Antonin muttered preparing to set up."

"Too late for that," Thorfinn drawled. The doorbell rang.

"Bloody hell! Don't answer it."

"The lights are on 'Tonin. They know we are in here, they will only get more persistent and more suspicious if we don't."

"Circe. Fine," he hissed. Thorfinn opened the door.

"Trick or Treat."

"Smell my feet," Thorfinn retorted. The kids glared at him. Antonin was working on summoning whatever candy the muggle man they had just disposed of had on hand and pouring it into a bowl.

"We want candy. We want candy. We want candy," the group began to chant.

Antonin arrived right on cue, dropped two pieces in each bag, wait for the kids to leave. Put the bowl of candy out on the porch and cast wards around the house to make it appear as if nobody was home.

Once the coast was clear, well as good as it was going to be, they set about the task of moving the body again. The pair of them had just uncovered the corpse from the ground when the skies open up and unleashed hell. Drenched, cold, and pissed they apparated the muggle to the woods several counties away and reburied Mr. Holston.

Satisfied the job was done correctly, and quickly covering up their tracks, Antonin spat on the ground.

"I fucking hate Halloween."


End file.
